"The chap, sir?"
"Eyebrow chap. Money no end—mines, lumber, domestic animals, that sort of thing."
"Beg pardon, sir! I'm to go"
"Chap's wife taken a great fancy to you. Would have you to do for the funny, sad beggar. So he's won you. Won you in a game of drawing poker. Another man would have done as well, but the creature was keen for you. Great strength of character. Determined sort. Hope you won't think I didn't play soundly, but it's not a forthright game. Think they're bluffing when they aren't. When they are you mayn't think it. So far as hiding one's intentions, it's a most rottenly immoral game. Low, animal cunning—that sort of thing."
"Do I understand I was the stake, sir?" I controlled myself to say. The heavens seemed bursting about my head.
"Ultimately lost you were by the very trifling margin of superiority that a hand known as a club flush bears over another hand consisting of three of the eights—not quite all of them, you understand, only three, and two other quite meaningless cards."
I could but stammer piteously, I fear. I heard myself make a wretched failure of words that crowded to my lips.
"But it's quite simple, I tell you. I dare say I could show it you in a moment if you've cards in your box."
"Thank you, sir, I'll not trouble you. I'm certain it was simple. But would you mind telling me what exactly the game was played for?"
"Knew you'd not understand at once. My word, it was not too bally simple. If I won I'd a hundred pounds. If I lost I'd to give you up to them but still to receive a
